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Monday, May 20, 2013

Daemonique volume IV teaser

Today I thought I'd share a little something I'm getting back into working on, as it makes a point of why serialised volumes works for everyone without too gravely impeding continuity of the story when you come in half way. It's a unique sort of thing to be able to do, doesn't always work in other media formats like TV series, but erotica is a different sort of sexy beast to deal with. Part of why it works better, like I talked about in Deity of the Desert below this is perhaps the kinks and content don't appeal to everyone throughout the series, so the option to dip in here and there is great for them.

For those that are okay with all the content and want the progressive story along with it, that's there too. With three volumes of an elf's struggle and fall from grace into the depths of darkest depravity, there's a decent amount of backstory to reference now and it's something I wanted to make a concerted effort about for sake of anyone just joining in this fourth volume. While doing so, I tried to keep it tied in to the forward flow of emotion and scene setting, so it doesn't just look like some recap advert. It's taken up a little over 1k words on its own merit already, and I'm generally happy with how it's turning out. As much as recap, I want to really reaffirm and capture the personal and racial reasoning behind Sylenna's rise and fall. The world above and beyond is not so kind to her people.

This is pre-edit and proofing so forgive me if the form and shine is a little off, but felt like I wanted to share this while I work rather than post-production. As much for anticipation of the next volume as grabbing new interest for volumes 1-3.

You can find all previous posts regarding Daemonique with the Daemonique series tag for the blog, including where to find each publication in all the usual stores. Volume 1 and 3 (but not 2) are ADULT filtered on Amazon because they had Ménage in the title, so they're a little harder to find. That's made sales drop off and me wonder if I should devote time to the series, but really the only way to get visibility back in there is to release more and make a point of the filter. Daemonique has essentially been my flagship title and I've no intention to let it drop off. So here we are, with the reminder of a fall from grace into the depths of demonic temptation and lust.

Opening excerpt follows the page break:

* * * *

Nothing made any sense, and nothing felt at all real. In
the darkest nest, deep under the ground and away from the light of what was
good and pure, a demonic host bided its time in captivity. The halls seemed
endless, for the prison dug into the ground spanned most of the remote island it was
built into. Everyone knew that, and that was not the problem.

The problem was that Sylenna Lightstride – an almost frail
seeming little elf, a sun-haired woman with sharp ears and bright blue eyes – did not
belong down here. She belonged on the surface, fighting their kind back to
their prisons. That was where she had begun, and where she would have liked to
have remained, but Warden Sylenna Lightstride had vanished, presumed dead till
proven otherwise.

It was unlikely the others would search for an elf very hard, as her kind were frowned
upon outside the island as untrustworthy tricksters, cutthroats and eldritch
magic users. The bond between every Warden was stronger than blood, but it was
still easier to assume another forsaken than comb the island for sign of them
and risk capture themselves. There simply wasn’t the manpower.

“You’ve been
abandoned to your fate.” A voice whispered to her from beyond the darkness,
and it took Sylenna’s attention fully. She could not speak, see, nor move, but
she could listen. The voice held power, strength and things she had forgotten
or lost. Dignity and pride.

“All alone, all but
for those around you now. What gifts and blessings they’ve bestowed upon you,
what fullness of life.” It whispered
to her very soul, if she could still claim to own such a thing, and her body
twitched in memory. She had been bent by that demonic host, ravaged and used
for their most sordid pleasures with only the slightest care to keep her alive
till seemingly every last one had taken its turn.

Just when Sylenna had thought she’d experienced the worst
they had to offer; not one, and not a host, but two had taken her at the same
time. Dark magic had revived her from the edge of unconsciousness and sharpened
her broken mind so she might appreciate her freefall from grace. What that made
of her with now, she had no idea. Perhaps the whispering voice full of power
and purpose knew. Perhaps it would give her meaning.

“So ashamed, weren’t
you? Ashamed of falling to lust, to being seen as a lesser race by those you
desired. Well, now you’re free, little one. Free.” It told her, so assured
as to declare her freedom. Sylenna twitched again. Her muscles were starting to
hurt, and she could feel something in her throat. It felt as if she should want
to sick up, but her throat was too taught to allow it, too flexed and full of
something that had the force to push back at her constrictions.

Well, it didn’t hurt,
and somehow it almost felt good to her. How could something in her throat feel
good? A flash of memory rushed before her blinded eyes. Being impaled on a
demonic shaft so deep down her throat that she hadn’t been able to move her
head and even hung in the air,
impaled on it. That should have repulsed her. Nothing made any sense, but she
knew that memory was real. She knew as surely as the lacing of fire starting to
tingle in her contorted limbs.

All of it had
happened, but now? Now she was free?

Blind, mute and unable to move didn’t feel very free to Sylenna.
While she couldn’t see – for whatever it was wrapped around her head like an eyeless
mask – she could feel her feet were behind the tips of her long ears quite
clearly. Her arms also hugged her thighs, meaning they were folded up at the
waist. The image that sprung to mind left her so immediately exposed and shown
off enough to make her flinch and clench her thighs. The milk-white little bud
of flesh between her thighs only twitched slightly. There would be no hiding
it.

“You have nothing
left to hide. Nothing left to fear. You are mine, now.” The voice whispered again, such a simple thing, but the
words sunk into and vibrated off something within Sylenna. They reverberated
within her, shook and soothed her. No one had ever laid claim to her, never
calmed and given her purpose like that before. She had bowed to the Church in
faith and hope of redemption, true, but they had only accepted her begrudgingly.

Sylenna had let the feeling pass, slip into the back of her
mind, for they gave her purpose and reason enough to focus ahead. All that was
shattered now, laid bare, lost, abandoned. In its place; something so much more.
She wanted to know who or what was speaking to her in such a way. She wanted to
understand, to reach out and embrace it, but her hands were tied at the small
of her back.

Wiggling and reaching, Sylenna could feel the soft curve of
her rear in front and the steely grid work of a wall behind her. Hung up on it,
then, like something on display. Somehow, the image filled her with no shame.
Memories of things done to her returned. Of course, why should this shame her
when she had been driven to such extremes before that crowd? Surely, to be
before this voice, this presence of power bared naked was a blessing and privilege.

Sylenna’s upturned thighs suddenly stung with warmth. Something
was touching her, and it made her quiver in anxious fear, as much as her body
was capable of movement in the humiliating and liberating posture she had. Sharp
nails traced across her skin, the stuff of nightmares that could as quickly
rend the life from her. Was she afraid the voice intended to end her?

Thethingin her throat wrenched a guttural
whimper from her as she tried to focus on anything but that. Sylenna wanted to
belong, to have purpose and life, to
be anything but destroyed and forgotten. Sylenna recalled the last time she had
hurt this way, it had not been so long ago. She had wrestled free of a succubus’
trap and signalled the threat. She had left to fight them, but her chest hurt.
Her neck hurt. Her head hurt, and her heart! It felt as if she was the one whom
had been stabbed instead of the demoness.

She had felt as though she were heartbroken and fleeing the
men that had rejected her to cry alone, forgotten. It made no sense, but she hadn’t
been able to quash the feeling. She hadn’t wanted to be near them, those who
saw her in such a way. Abandoned.

Another sharp gasp of a sob took her, muffled and strangled
by the leeching creature content to plug and strain her throat. The darkest
reaches of her mind had spilled out, overtaken and consumed her with the truths
of the world that simply did not care for her. Even still, she did not wish to
be destroyed and lost. The voice gave her feeling of purpose.

“Hush, it’s alright
now, little one. None will harm this heart of yours again. You have my promise.”
The voice whispered, a gentle, so soft and tender hand stroking and cupping her
voluptuous breast. It made flames of heat and passion burst within her
immediately. That the being behind those words – the one giving her promise of
salvation – was a powerful demoness, the owner of those sharp claws that
prickled her skin and sent chills up her spine did not come into reasoning. Sylenna no longer cared.

The little elf’s back bowed off the wall, forcing another
weak mewl from her throat as she pushed into the hand touching her breast.
Xianesh – towering Avez’teria
demoness, the cloven hoofed Underwarden smiled with plush black lips and
blacker eyes that stared down the wall-bound elf. One so strong, so talented
had fallen fully into Xianesh’s grasp. Good.